


Winter's End

by Kerica, Lynx_Tiger



Series: Through the Seasons and the Realms [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Autism, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Character Development, Depression, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multiple Personalities, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Trauma, bucky barnes has a daughter, hydra is trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:18:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerica/pseuds/Kerica, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynx_Tiger/pseuds/Lynx_Tiger
Summary: Bucky's broken from his Conditioning and now he wants to just...live his life. All the while a curious girl is not only searching for him but for answers.Nat and Clint spend their time raiding Hydra bases, searching for the Red Book that details the Winter Soldier's brainwashing. Along the way, they stumble across three poor souls that have been experimented on, but to what extent?In the meantime, Steve has a crisis. There's this girl on the streets he keeps seeing. She looks like Becca. But she's not Becca and it's driving him insane.





	1. Her Father's Letter

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone coming back to this, things are drastically changing from ch2 on

_ Anzhelina _

_ I write this quickly. I don’t have time, but I am making time. For you. _

_ You were five. I do not know if you will remember the falling building that I protected you from. In fact, I might not by the time you read this. I knew you were mine by your eyes, and you have my nose, of all things… _

_ Off topic. You need to know. Your mother put you in an orphanage first. I do not know who she is; neither of us will ever know I think. Bad person. Took advantage of me, but who would believe that, right? Drugged…Disappeared… _

_ I found you. I loved you immediately. A man like me...how would I know love? I did. You did it. Somehow. Memories of a better time...I don’t know where they came from, but you are precious. _

_ Foster care was the only thing I could think of at the time. Forgive me for any hardships you went through. There was a reason. Protection. Think of movies where someone’s being hunted and the police erase who you are. Similar situation, but darker. Still, I did my best to protect you. I gave you a name, something better than what she gave you. _

_ If you lived this long to see this; I am proud. Proud of anything and everything you were able to achieve. Proud of you for living. Keep living. For both of us. _

_ Love. I love you, little Anzhelina. Stay strong, don’t let anyone control you. _

_ Your Father _

Angelina quietly folded up the letter and she placed it into her backpack. Ever since she turned 16, the letter had been a constant companion in her journey. The paper was wearing, the folds were tearing and the ink was nearly fading. It was her only clue, and it wasn’t much of one besides her blood. American. Romanian. Nowhere near English as she thought. It was weird, to stand in a country that was so…different for her.

Now she was 18 and standing in front of a museum, the only place that she had that would probably answer a lot of her questions. She tried doing a DNA test to figure out if she could track her father that way. Yet the DNA sample told her that she belonged to a grandpa.

She was pretty sure that it was probably because her father didn’t register his DNA anywhere. It was probably the entire reason why it skipped and said that her father was James Buchanan Barnes. A sergeant who died in the middle of a war.

Despite that she didn’t know her father, knowing who her grandfather was a trip in itself. He was a Howling Commando, the right-hand man of none other than Steve Rogers, A.K.A Captain America. He was the best friend that followed him from the schoolyard all the way to the battlefield. He was tortured and still wanted to fight for his country.

It amazed her, and it made her sad that she couldn’t go up to Steve Rogers and ask him if by chance he knew James’ son. Maybe Captain America didn’t even know that his best friend had a girl that he left behind on the shoreline. Maybe he didn’t know that his son was going to grow up and probably take her away from one broken orphanage to another.

She wandered quietly, staring at the pictures of her grandfather and watched mesmerized by the small video clip of him and Steve. She reached into her backpack and pulled out the letter again. Maybe she was being stupid. Maybe she took New York City to mean that he was somewhere in the heart of it. She could try Brooklyn, her grandfather apparently grew up there. Would that stay in the family? She folded up the letter and placed it back into her backpack, keeping it nice and neat in its envelope.

_ Think of movies where someone’s being hunted and the police erase who you are. Similar situation, but darker. Still, I did my best to protect you. I gave you a name, something better than what  _ **_she_ ** _ gave you. _

She supposed that maybe he wouldn’t. He was being hunted. He wouldn’t stay somewhere that people could easily trace him by. She walked into the restroom, her thoughts still ringing in her ears. As she washed her hands, she looked up at the mirror and paused.

_ In fact, I might not by the time you read this. I knew you were mine by your eyes, and you have my nose, of all things… _

His memory was faulty. He did say that he probably wouldn’t even remember. She peered at herself closer. Did her father have freckles or was she too young to have them at the time they first met? She couldn’t tell in the black and white photos of her grandfather, but she could see that the nose would be a definite trait that they would share.

Her father might have been a war vet. Didn’t people sometimes follow their father’s legacy? She pursed her lips together. She knew she was thinking this way too hard. Maybe it was simple. What if the DNA tests were right, and that her father really was Bucky Barnes? How would that change things?

The only one that had any answers to her questions would be Steve Rogers, and he was as elusive as the Black Widow. She wasn’t sure how she could even try finding someone like him. She supposed she could try playing the damsel in distress, but she doubted that it would work.

She wanted answers, and the only way she was going to get them was if she kept digging. Maybe she wouldn’t have to go to Steve. Maybe, just maybe, she could figure it out all by herself. She wondered how proud her father would be…or maybe how upset if she managed to show back up in his life.

Hitching her bag up her shoulders, she walked out of the restroom and out of the museum. New York was huge, and she only scratched the surface. At least she now knew that military probably ran in the family.

She had things to do.

* * *

Efficiency and speed. That was what he needed right now. Even as he warred with himself over his name, he couldn’t help to default to Barnes for now. Quick, easy. A last name. Fuck, his shoulder hurt like a bitch. Training had been useful as he used it to put his dislocated shoulder back into place when he walked through the trees from the shoreline. Not only did it still ache, but he had also lost a lot of blood from his fight with Rogers. He would need to change clothes, steal some food, and hibernate for a good few hours to even be in remotely working order.

A few hours was something he didn’t have.

Hell, he barely had time to sneak through the back of a store. Using hidden weapons, he took out the cameras. Clothes for a disguise was a top priority; the bleeding on his injuries had long since stopped. A rubber band easily sufficed for a hair-tie, then stuffed the still wet locks into a baseball cap. If he was fast enough, smart enough, he could grab not only money but weapons. Hydra expected him to die back there. They would take their sweet, sweet time to erase his data. Not to mention the chaos that was ensuing right now from the helicarrier crashes and the destruction of the S.H.I.E.L.D. building.

Faster,  _ faster _ !

Of all things, he was able to find a giant backpack with multiple pockets he could stuff his wet uniform into, along with what weapons he couldn’t hide throughout his new outfit. Double checking he didn’t miss the cameras, he headed out of the store and used the alleyways to easily slip into a crowd that didn’t know the difference. Even with a disaster in one part of the city, there were going to be people who didn’t give a damn and continued about their business.

It was walking through the city that proved to be tough on him mentally, in spite of that. Paranoid by default, using his espionage skills to the test as he would keep an eye out on his surroundings. People on their cell phones, people walking briskly, he could imagine them all as Hydra, special agents, CIA, S.H.I.E.L.D or what remained of them, and of course any other agency that wanted him. He was sadly thankful that the only person in the world that would stand out in this crowd was Steve, but he would be in a hospital by now.

Activating the safety deposit in the bank to get his IDs and paperwork and passports was his top priority. Once he had those he could work on disappearing. He had done it multiple times before, but now was the time to pull out all the stops. It would take a day to forge new paperwork...and who would expect him to file under his real name?

_ James Buchanan Barnes. _

It still...sounded and tasted so weird to him. Soldat, Soldier, Winter Soldier, a slew of other false names. Never…

_ Bucky. _

Shaking his head vigorously, Barnes forced himself to stayed focused. He had a self-imposed mission and he had to get it done.

* * *

He was James now - The mental switch between the two was exhausting, but it mattered what he preferred as his headspace buzzed. Emotions flipped, thoughts went from choppy to running together. Cold and calculating with sure steps to a skittish mouse being chased by cats, but he had to pretend he wasn’t or they’d find him...

Using the excuse he was moving and couldn’t stay with the bank, he had thousands of dollars in cash hidden away in his backpack and pockets. With new forged documents in a neat little folder, he had tossed the old out in several giant, wet, smelly dumpsters and other trash cans throughout his walk after thoroughly using his knife to shred it all to pieces. New York was his next step. Get as far away from D.C. and Pierce and the  _ chair _ as he possibly could.

Rogers would be fine. There had been sirens when he pulled him from the river. They would find him, take care of him. Wilson, too, no doubt would be fine. Funny how he was concerned about Flying Sam. He was Rogers friend and comrade. If he wasn’t okay then Rogers would be sad, and it was bad enough that Rogers’ Bucky made him sad.

At least here on the train to NYC, Barnes could sleep the whole way there. Counting the stops, he took a mental note not to sleep too deeply so he could pay attention. With that, he found himself a corner, turned his hat down, held his backpack close, and promptly passed out.

Waking up again after the last stop, he silently grunted and groaned as he tried to stretch his body. Checking everything, nothing was stolen and with a sleepy nod, he heaved up out of the chair, stumbling tiredly out the sliding doors.

A flash of an era long since past. People in clothes more modest, classy and dapper compared to what they wore today. The subway itself barely changed, but the people were what showed the passage of time.

Head throbbing at the memory, he rubbed his forehead and hurried onward. The city was loud. It was people buzzing on the streets talking to each other on the phone. If they weren’t talking, they were looking down on their phone and not giving a fuck on who they ran into. There were people that walked briskly like they meant business as they went down the roads. There were people who ambled, trying to drink the city like a glass of water and not caring they were in other people’s way as they looked for street signs. James was aware from his time in the museum that he grew up as a city boy. The city was in his blood, in his heart, in his soul, something that instead of burning out, was enhanced through the beatings and torment of Hydra. The city was James’ most famous skills.

His next order of business would be to buy a burner phone, then find a store to change outfits again. Following that go to a new bank to make an account. With a new ID and a new name came a different state of dress. Don’t put too much money in at once. Savings as well, maybe an extra hundred compared to the checking account. Explain he was searching for an apartment, as he had moved to New York for work and was staying with someone. Then spend the night searching for a place to hole up. Hiding places to put his money until he could trickle it in next week saying he got paid his first paycheck. Two weeks following that. Plan ahead, always ahead.

Also a gym pass to shower. Shop at a regular store for a razer. No need to  _ look  _ or even  _ smell  _ like a homeless person even as he hunted for a ratty place to call home, if only temporarily.

* * *

Barnes was exhausted. Three days since the incident at DC. Drinking water at the fountains in stores. Using a few spare dollars to get candy and bottled water from vending machines. The bank had taken his money with ease and no sense of suspicion. Unfortunately, getting a place to live would require bribing, which with the amount of money on his person could easily do in a shady part of the city. Why? Because you had to let the apartment complex use your ID for a background check. With a fake ID that was a no-go and yet he needed a place to put at his address to go get a real one under his name.

It was hard to think of his previous patterns and how to avoid them so not to be tracked. Soldat’s memory provided a general insight, but he had his memory wiped so many times it was hard to piece things together.

Being a genetically engineered soldier meant he couldn’t really survive off of Snickers bars, as much as he tried. He had only slept at four-hour intervals, one rem, and kept moving. Homeless were constantly hunted for and he refused to be caught. He was supposed to survive for weeks on his own at a time hunting a target. Now he had to survive, but without a target to zero in on. Not to mention, some of his wounds hadn’t fully healed because he hadn’t taken the time to really rest and eat something packed with calories. That combined with infection, and his serum was working overtime.

It was nearing the end of the day when the smell of coffee hit his nose. Wandering...that was all he really had been doing after checking off his boxes. Waiting...he could sit in trees for hours waiting for a target to move and get in the line of sight for his sniper rifle. Yet he was waiting for an opportunity. Being on the run was draining in many ways.

Maybe a decent cup of  _ fucking  _ coffee would do him some good, and maybe a pastry…

Barnes nearly doubled over as his stomach caught up with him and caved in with hunger, his arm wrapping around his torso. Saying it growled was an understatement and he was dizzy.

“It looks like you’re having a bad day,” a young woman was standing in front of him but wasn’t looking at him at all. Her eyes were lower towards the ground and to the side like she would rather be looking anywhere but him. The thumb on her right hand was rubbing the pads of her fingers as she spoke. “Come in with me. Zan’s working.”

Barnes stiffened, brows knitting together as he watched her closely. Even his hands tightened over the straps of his backpack. “Bad day…” he repeated slowly. His voice was raspy and deep, barely used except when necessary. “I was...going in anyway. Who are you?” her shifty disposition threw him off, but it wasn’t...tripping any ‘suspicious’ triggers. The way she moved...her finger-rubbing...it all seemed more like ‘ticks’ for someone with a mental illness. Also, no eye-contact. Normally a warning bell, but if she was  _ different  _ then talking to him must be hard for her. She wanted to lead him inside, not away. Zan was a worker, someone she knew.

Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Not everyone was an enemy, Barnes. “I am sorry.” He told her, softening his voice which made it sound more gravelly, “I will go in with you. I am Barnes.”

“It’s a bad day,” the woman repeated, her eyes flicking from one side to the ground back. “I’m Airi. Zan will make things better. She does for me when I have a bad day.” She turned and headed towards the door. She flicked her fingers against the handle before she pulled it open. “She’ll be happy I have company for once.”

Yes, those were definitely ‘ticks’ and he reluctantly released some tension in his shoulders, following behind her. Arctic blue eyes darted around the cafe, taking note of everything from the number of people to the exits as he followed this young Airi girl. The coffee scent was so much stronger in here and it made him rub his stomach again. Soon, he would have something filling. It wouldn’t be a restaurant meal, but better than vending machine food. Muffins, pies, and sandwiches in the display case barely scratched the surface of what was in there and it all looked delicious.

Airi didn’t wait over by the hostess stand; instead, she already was walking towards a small table that was tucked in a corner. A part of it was sitting by the window and the other part of it was next to the wall. Plopping herself down on the window side, she moved the sugar jar towards the other end of the table, then also started to move the salt and pepper shakers in a line in front of her. She paused on the bowl of creamers, before taking them out one by one and stacking them by color and lining them up from the tallest to the smallest. Once it was done, and there was nothing else for her to touch, she set her bag down and took out a skein of yarn that had a crochet hook stabbed in the middle of it with a piece of fabric attached to the hook. Carefully, she set the skein on the table close to the window and started to work.

Barnes set his backpack on the far end of the booth and then slipped some cash from his pants pocket. Carrying around so much money made him nervous, but he had managed to hide some away in places. Not to mention, he had given in and opened an account at a second bank as well. “What do you drink?” He offered for a possible conversation, but he was alright with silence if she wanted it.

Before Airi could answer, another woman walked up towards the table. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a tight high ponytail, and a tray rested firmly on her side. “Hey Ai. Is today a bad day or a good day?”

Airi sighed as she placed her work down on her lap. She tilted her head towards Zan’s direction, but her eyes remained focused on the table. “Too many questions today. It’s a good day for me. It’s a bad day for him. Can I get Earl Grey tea with a scone and strawberry jam in a jar, not in plastic?”

Zan slipped the pad of paper from her apron. “Sure, Ai. The usual you always get.” She turned her attention to Barnes, and her eyebrow raised. “Hi. I’m Suzanna. You can call me Zan, it’s not often Airi brings a friend with her.” Her expression softened. “She told me that you were having a bad day. If you don’t want to talk or anything, I can give you a menu so you can point at it.”

“Ah, no, I’m capable.” Barnes assured her, “She caught me outside...the smell of coffee and the thought of food disoriented me. Moved here a few days ago. Don’t have much to my name, but…” he placed a twenty on the table, “I’ll pay for both of us, if that’s fine with both of you?”

Airi frowned deeply, “You need it. You should spend it on something more. I’ll pay for both of us. I told you to come in with me. You sat down across from me. That makes you my guest.”

“I could have you two rock paper scissors this,” Zan rolled her eyes playfully, “But I already know who's gonna win. Keep the money, Airi’ll kill me if I took it.”

Barnes felt the smile trying to tug at his mouth, but he was too good at hiding his emotions, so he let his eyes speak for him, nodding his head politely. He knew he could easily do a sleight of hand to put the twenty in her pocket, but that could wait for a free moment. “I need calories. I saw giant muffins in the case, but anything else you think is filling I’ll take. For a drink...let’s start small. Black coffee.”

Zan nodded her head as she slipped the pad of paper back into her pocket, “Well it’s a good thing you came in, then. My brother’s the one that made all those pastries so if you’re looking for a bunch of calories and a tummy of regret, I’ll whip you something up. I’ll leave you two to it.” She gently knocked on Barnes’ side of the table and carefully straightened the sugar jar before she headed off.

“She does that. She thinks you’re a vet. I think you’re a vet, too.” Airi said quietly as she picked up her craft. “You have the eyes of one.”

“Well, that’s not... _ incorrect _ .” Barnes allowed, a deep breath through his nose, “I don’t mean to ask too many questions for you. May I ask, do vets come around often, then? Or does she know any personally?” Any thoughts she might be someone to be cautious of were fading faster by the moment, and Zan was no one to worry about, either, being considerate and kind to Airi. A regular, everyday server.

Airi tilted her head, clearly paying attention despite that her entire focus seemed to be on the project in front of her. “Both. All the time. Zan’s famous for taking care of the vets here. Her father was one. He died in Afghanistan. Dylan thought about becoming a soldier, but it affected their mom too much. That’s why she’s my safe space.”

A noise in his throat to let her know he was thinking, he quieted now as the words processed. Perhaps it was silly, but watching Airi in her rhythm was entrancing to watch. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was making, but it was easy enough to keep count with her in his head. Maybe his shoulders moved with the pattern, and maybe his head bobbed with the count only minutely, but did he notice? Did he care? No, not really. Somehow or another, such a simple task made the buzzing in his mind ease and slow, even if it didn’t completely stop.

It didn’t take Zan long to return with tea and coffee as well as a couple of plates of pastries. Airi set the work to the side and in her bag so that it wouldn’t get anything on it, and moved her plate a little closer to her. Zan placed two plates in front Barnes. Muffins, two slices of pie, and a stack of different cookies. “Dylan heard that you were starving and told me that if you finish all of that and want some for the road, tell me and I’ll sneak some in,” Zan told him as she situated the tray on her side again. “Thanks for taking care of each other guys.”

“No problem. If you weren’t here and he was standing at the apartment buildings, I would’ve made soup.” Airi said as she cut the scone in half. “You and Dylan didn’t come for chili the other day.”

“Nooo. I missed chili day?!” Zan’s eyes widened, “I’m sorry, Airi. It must’ve slipped my mind.”

“It’s okay. It’s a big pot. It keeps.” Airi promised.

His brows furrowed, “You shouldn’t allow strangers like me into your home, Airi. Bad things can come from that. You’re too sweet to get hurt. It was risky enough having me follow you in here, but it’s a place with people so you were lucky.” He took a sip of the coffee, hummed, then decided to dip a cookie into it.

“Dude, you know that there’s a jar of sugar, right here right?” Zan looked panicked, “and like...if you wanted to do that you do that with milk. Were you raised under a rock?! And also, yeah adoptive dad’s right Airi. You do that too much. It’s a wonder how you’re not killed.”

“I’m too fast.” Airi deadpanned, “My reflexes will catch anything.”

“Okay, right beside the bad movie quotes.” Zan turned towards Barnes. “You two are gonna kill me.”

“Don’t die, I still need you,” Airi said, tilting her head towards Zan as she cut the jelly into quarters and scooped one of them out to spread on the bread. “We still need you.”

“It’s not...literal…” Zan sighed. “Okay, no dying. Anyway, I’m definitely upset your cookie took a dunk into that coffee.”

“What upsets  _ me  _ is you two are talking about me as if you hadn’t just met me.” He dipped the cookie into the coffee again and ate it defiantly, watching Zan scoff, and then took a larger drink of his coffee even if it was piping hot, “I usually have my coffee black. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any sugar or creamer in it. Consider it taking it slow, and it tastes good either way. I’m sure I wasn’t raised under a rock, but the rest of my life might as well have been that way. I moved here for a reason.”

Zan raised an eyebrow up, “I know I just met you, but let me tell you a secret. There’s a reason why Airi let you sit in that seat right there.” She pointed at the seat that he was currently in. “I’ve met and seen thousands of soldiers and people try to sit where you are right now. Some soldiers get lucky and they sit there for awhile, but regular people like me don’t get a damn chance. Hell, I’m lucky to be  _ talking  _ to you for this long. If anything, we might’ve just met you, but you made a severe impression on us both. A good impression. I wouldn’t doubt that once you leave, Airi won’t stop talking about you.”

“That’s flattering.” Barnes ate a cookie by itself as the other one was gone now, “It would be good to come back, but don’t count on anything, let alone me. Right now in my life, anything can happen.” He peeled open one of his muffins. “Thank you for your kind words, in any case.”

“No problem,” Zan smiled warmly. “I hope you do come back. You’d be a welcome sight.” She gently knocked on the table and walked away.

Airi was half-way done with the first half of the scone as the conversation played out. When Zan left, she set the scone down and tilted her head sideways. “You’re very protective.”

A response took its time as he ate, trying not to scarf it all down too fast, but when he finished the first muffin he finally answered, “A side of me that pops out from time to time. Being a soldier, you can’t save or protect everyone.” In his case, he was the one ruining lives. Being a murderer. Saving Rogers was...something he hadn’t been sure he was capable of. If he protected his superiors it was because he had to and it was his job, not because he wanted to. “I tend to protect myself for the most part, but that ends up being a survival instinct.”

“You remind me of a father.” Airi took another bite of the scone. “I don’t understand everything you said. I don’t care about the military. You were very nice to me. Not many people are. They think I’m weird, so I stick with crocheting. I’m gonna make you something.”

“Who knows when you’ll see me again. You sure about that?” His eyes were soft, relaying the feelings his mouth refused to do, “I doubt you’d want to give it to Zan to give to me if I do come by and you’re not here.”

“It’s personal.” Airi shrugged as she finished off the first half of the scone and went on to spread jelly onto the next half. “Zan knows my schedule. She can tell you when I come. I’m never late. If I am, I’m home.”

Barnes nodded, deciding on the pie next to mix things up. A tummy full of regret might be right, with all this rich food after...at least three days, no idea before his braid recalled things on the helicarrier if or what he ate. Oh well, it’d process within a few hours anyway. “I will keep that in mind.”

* * *

“I could have told you that they wouldn’t take your excuse.” Her adopted brother said as Angelina came back into the hotel. She still wasn’t sure what made Halvdan follow her from Norway to here. She had jumped from country to country and winding up at the CPS office more than enough times. With no one and nothing to claim her, foster homes, temporary homes, and orphanages were the only things that kept her sheltered until she no longer could stand the itch that someone was getting too close. A chronic runaway didn’t look good on any “wannabe child” and certainly not enough of her “family” tried to get to know her enough to even try. 

The albino was completely different. Quiet, anti-social, and well read, he was certainly more charming than her on paper. However, something made him follow, and Angelina didn’t have the heart to tell him not to come. Though admittedly, his ability to blend and become shadows and shade was extraordinary and got them out of a lot of fixes than she thought was possible. He was an ally that she couldn’t afford to lose, especially in a city this huge and wide. 

She flung herself on to the hotel’s couch and rested her head in her brother’s lap. Without thought, her brother began stroking her hair. “Anxiety?” He asked softly. At her nod, he hummed softly. “They get those kinds of questions a lot. I’m sure they will not think anything more of it, than a teenager that is completely nosy and doesn’t know how to mind her own business.”

“I feel like…” Angelina stopped in her tracks, took a breath, and began again. “I feel like I’m so close to something. Like it’s right there, in reach.”

“Patience is a virtue you lack.” Halvdan commented. “You will make things worse, trying to go headstrong. Let’s split into groups this time. I know someone here that may be able to help.”

“You said that before and you wouldn’t tell me anything.” Angelina pouted.

“I still won’t tell you anything. She’s my contact.”

“Oooh is she a lover?”

Halvdan shoved her off of his lap and she rolled off of the couch and hit the floor. “Oops.” He said dryly. “My bad.”

“Dick.”

“I’m surprised you’re observant enough to notice.” He grabbed his cane that was resting against the couch and hauled himself to his feet. “I’m going to find tea.”

“Bring me some?”

“Come with me then, I only have two hands.”

* * *

“Two weeks and our mystery vet hasn’t come back.” Dylan said as he stirred some brownie batter, some flour on his cheek but he didn’t seem to notice, “Airi’s been pretty patient, and her little present is finished. What do you think, Zan? Will he come back?”

Zan leaned against the counter in thought. It was hard to tell, vets came and went all the time. Some stayed behind, but others sometimes only came for the one day. “I don’t know. I told Airi to not get her hopes up about him coming back, but she thinks that he will. He didn’t like the fact that Airi and I were treating him so friendly like. I think that maybe he’s been hurt so much that trust isn’t his thing, and Airi’s complete trust is kinda...I don’t know. Nerve-wracking? At least she’s not panicking over her schedule yet. He knows to follow hers and not her follow his. So maybe? It’s hard to say. I’d like to say he will, but I also think that the man has other things on his mind.”

“Don’t they all?” Dylan drawled and poured the batter into a pan, “If he has a tragic past, that would explain why he was technically homeless but still had money to pay for all the food he ate. That reverse sleight of hand got you good. Here’s to hoping he found a job or a home, or both…” he paused and flicked honey brown eyes up, “I heard the door ring. Better see who it is. Might be that new girl that’s been coming around…”

Zan pushed herself off the counter and headed out of the kitchen. She smiled when she saw who it was that was standing at the hostess stand. “Hey!”

“Hey, Zan.” Steve pushed the baseball cap down a little further, like covering up a bit of his face would give him some anonymity. “A private booth please?”

“Sure,” She gestured for him to follow and they headed towards a little booth that was out of the way. The screen hid the kitchen from view, but it gave a good sight towards the front door. It was the middle section of the building, so if he needed to escape or make himself known it was easy to do so without much trouble. “What’s with the face?”

“I’m….” Steve rubbed his head as he scooted in the booth. “It’s been a day.”

“I bet. I haven’t seen you since the Winter Soldier files were dropped.” Zan hushed her voice so that the conversation could remain at least a little private. “Are you doing okay?”

“Honestly? I could be better. I’ve been trying to track him down.” Steve admitted, gently pushing the menu to the side. Both Zan and he already knew what he wanted. “Do you mind for-”

“I’ll take my break,” Zan promised and she headed off to make him some coffee, with even amounts of sugar and cream, and with one ice cube in it as well since he didn’t like how hot the coffee got sometimes. She also assembled a plate of two slices of cherry pie that her brother had recently made. She made herself her own cup of coffee, black like her soul and her brother’s heart, and headed back towards the booth.

His hands were resting against his forehead, and his eyes were glaring daggers into the table. His shoulders were tensed high to his ears, and he looked ridged like sleep was a friend he didn’t even know anymore. Zan took a breath, and let it out slowly before she went to the table. She placed the cups of coffee down first, and then slid him the pie. “It’s funny that no one knows Captain America likes cherry pie instead of apple.” She hoped the teasing would lighten him a little.

It didn’t do any good, “Thanks, Zan.” He pulled the plate towards himself and she scooted herself into the seat across from him. “I hate bringing you these conversations.”

“I mean, you saved my life.” Zan shrugged, “It’d be a terrible way to thank you, throw you out and never hear from you again.”

Steve’s lips curved a little. “I forgot that I did.”

“You saved a lot of people,” she wrapped her hands around the coffee, “isn’t it about time someone was your friend?”

“You sound like Sam. He said pretty much the same thing,” He looked like he was debating over something in his mind when he finally spoke. “Have you had...anyone weird come in?”

“Jeez, you make it sound like we live in Jersey.” Zan rolled her eyes, “You’re in New York. Everyone’s weird. If you’re talking about anyone new, yeah I had a few.”

“Poet.” Steve frowned a little, “The reason why I’m asking is that when I say I’m tracking down the Winter Soldier...it’s not what you’re thinking. He was...he is a good friend of mine. My best friend. He fell from the mountains…I was kinda hoping that he might’ve poked his head in here.”

“If he did, I either wasn’t here or he never gave a name. Airi made a new friend though, which was exciting. He’s the only guy that I know that was new.” Zan brought the coffee to her lips and took a drink. She didn’t care that it burnt her tongue, it was best to drink it while it was piping hot. “....The best friend wouldn’t happen to be Bucky Barnes, would it?”

Steve closed his eyes, a pained expression crossed his face before he turned serious. “I’m afraid it is.”

“Well...fuck me.” Zan groaned, “I had a girl come in here looking for information about Bucky Barnes.”

His rigid posture only got worse, and she was very pleased to note that he hadn’t flipped the table yet. “What do you mean?”

“You know how you said you visited a lot of your old friends’ kids? Apparently, you missed one.” Zan bit her lip. “There’s a girl that came in, with seven notebooks and five bibliographies of you and the Howling Commandos. You know, the only five that were published about the group.”

“I couldn’t have. I met Rebecca’s son and his son. I even met Ally’s son and his son.” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “They all had boys. They would’ve mentioned if they had a sister.”

“Maybe missed was the wrong word.” Zan held her hands up. “But this chick is adamant about trying to track down things about you and the Howling Commandos. She even quizzed me and I know shit.”

“She didn’t ask you about...?”

“Oh she asked about you, but more in terms of how you were related to the Commandos. Like how you met Bucky, why did Bucky follow you, so on and so forth.”

It struck Steve weird that someone was going around trying to find Bucky Barnes. He was very sure that he didn’t miss a single person when he went trying to find what his friends and family had done when he ‘passed away’. He would’ve caught it in an instant, he was sure of it. Rebecca and Ally didn’t believe in hiding. Hell, it was the entire reason why the Kellys and the Proctors were frightening. It wasn’t the men, but the women they had behind them.

“You know...Sam mentioned to me that there’s been a girl that recently showed up at the V.A. He thought she might be from a military family, and she stated as such. She helped calm a soldier down by singing the same tune that he would hum under his breath when he was having a good day. It was strange that she caught it. Sam thought that maybe she had been a therapist or something.” Steve looked at Zan, “Do you think that could be the same girl that was here?”

“Honey, New York is a large city with thousands of people crammed into it. It might be and it might not, and I don’t want you to go off and think that you have a lead when you might not. I don’t know much about the girl, I know that she’s trying to track information down. She doesn't seem like a historian, or a student trying to write the best paper. I think she genuinely wants to know, and I get this feeling that she’s trying to track down maybe one of her family members. Maybe someone Bucky Barnes knew.”

“I can’t imagine who,” Steve frowned as he lifted the fork to one of the cherry pies. It was a little cold now, but the conversation was starting to take a toll and he needed the sugar if he was going to continue. “Bucky and I were pretty close. Tight-knit. We didn’t have very many friends.”

Zan frowned, too, “I wish you luck, Steve. But she comes in here every once in a while, and if you can’t find her here, you’ll find her somewhere with a crowd. I know she street busks.”

“With what?”

“A guitar.” Zan grinned, “She plays it better than me. That’s saying something.”

Steve had an instant memory of Bucky selling off a guitar back when the Depression hit. His fingers too calloused and swollen to play the strings anymore since he was working at the docks. It helped them survive for only a little bit longer before Steve lost his job and fell sick again to pneumonia. “I guess it would be.”

“I’m going off break.” Zan slipped out of the booth, taking an empty cup with her. “If you ever find that girl, I hope she gives you leads on your friend.”

“I hope that I’m not leading Bucky into a trap if I do.” Steve watched Zan walk away and he looked at the plate of the half-eaten cherry pie slice, and one that hadn’t been touched.

Bucky hated cherries in a pie. Too sweet and weren’t all that appealing. He thought it was funnier to like apple since the all-American boy didn’t. Steve closed his eyes, holding the memory tight in his mind before letting it go and finished off the pie. He would have to track the girl down. Maybe she was a hidden lead to the mystery.   
  



	2. Who You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting some food in his belly and sleeping hard, Bucky sets to work on getting his life together, thanks to a little help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Animal Cruelty & Animal Death

_“BUCKY!!!”_

Jerking up from where he'd perched himself for a nap, in a high up but sheltered spot a cop looking for Homeless wouldn't find him, Barnes shook his head of the ghosting, echoed scream in his head. Coffee, muffins and pie had put him in basically a food coma, hence his current hidey-hole. Honestly, he could've done better, finding some rafters in a random building somewhere, but no. Where did he end up? Hauled up in an alcove where pillars nearly met the ceiling, a ledge just wide enough to situate his body in a semi-fetal position in the corner. He didn't even know where he was. It didn't matter.

With no one in sight, it was time to get his bering so he jumped down and disappeared into the shadows he knew so well. Alright...he needed to find a place to live. Today. Fuck hiding in nooks and crannies like a pigeon. What the hell, Barnes?

Day five, he discovered. A full 24 hours of hibernating. Shadows weren’t trying to fight back.

Still, a place to sleep for real. New York was so different than what his brain was trying to tell him. This or that building didn’t exist. Places he could've gone before were off limits.

Come  _on_ , Barnes! Think outside the fucking box. Injuries mostly healed, a knock-out sleep clear after a full stomach. You’re at full operating power. Act like it.

There was  _something_ right out of reach. A place to stay. Where…

_‘Search for food…’_

He didn’t know where this whisper came from, but it felt important. He followed it's orders, hunting the streets once again. In the end, he found a convenience store. After ducking his head and using the restroom, freshen up to look like a human being, he browsed. Little cold meat sandwiches among other various food and drink stuff. A Monster energy drink sounded amusing to him. So he got a Hydro in something called ‘Maniac Melon’ and a regular can in that was purple. He knew what grape tasted like, and he hoped that was what it was.

_‘Break the pattern…’_

The whisper came again as he walked by the case with the sandwiches. He supposed they sounded like something he could eat, but what else was there?

It smacked him across the face.

Chinese food. Crappy convenience store  _Chinese food_ , but there it was. The answer.

He had a trip to Chinatown to make.

* * *

To his credit, Hydra would never look for him here.

Purists, they were. Maybe they had a few Chinese people working for them over the years, but that was only because of the alliance during the War. Subordinates only, really. No one in high standing that he should be concerned about.

The streets were...colorful here. Lots of reds. A good luck color. Subconsciously, he kept his left arm closer to his body, even though it was hidden by his jacket fine. The red star painted on the metal set his teeth to grind. He had to keep blinking to be rid of the symbol  _they_ so adored that flashed behind his eyelids.

“You. With the hat and the scowl. Stop.”

First instinct was to keep walking, but Barnes betrayed himself by looking over and slowing down.

“Yes, you. Good, you stopped.” Speaking to him was was an older man, but not by much. Fifties, maybe. Hair just barely greying. “Mystic said you'd come. I was expecting someone looking more grumpy. Need shelter, yes? Don't give me that face. Yes, no?”

What else was he supposed to do? Barnes nodded, slow and eyes narrowed.

“Then come. Mystic said you had money? Oh, won't sell you out over money better. Good worker, good help, good fortune. Said would be equal trade.”

Well, that cleared up so much, but left other questions open. “Mystic?” was his only question as he followed the middle-aged man inside. Was this an apartment complex?

“Yes, yes. Cassandra. Comes by every so often for herbs and supplies. Not from me, but around. Lots of shops around here. Incense. Herbs like nettle, rose, mugwort. Shops with crystals. Divination.” The old man was leading him to an apartment way up top. “High floor. Hear anyone coming. Harder to ambush. Roof across the street Mystic said you could jump to. Inclined to believe.”

Barnes rubbed his face. All this, from some sort of psychic? Right, payment. Flipping open a flap in his cargo pants, he pulled out a wad of hundreds, “Paperwork for address?”

“Don't need ID, but will have you sign papers with rent amount.” He agreed, pocketing it and in place of the money dropped a set of keys in his hand, “Need to know what mail goes where.” Here they were, at the top of the winding staircase. “Spare mattress already in there. Do what you want with it. Know you don’t have much.” With a nod, the old man left him to his own devices.

Barnes was still at a loss when he unlocked the door and stepped inside, taking in...his new home. Really...who was Mystic Cassandra?

* * *

A week and here Barnes stood, a  _real_ ID, his  _real_ pre-war birth certificate, and a place to call his own. Nightmares plagued him and there were times he woke up feeling like someone else, but so far so good. Hydra wouldn’t have a clue.

His cot had a few blankets, mostly because they were soft, but he knew he was going to get too hot as the summer months drew near. He would enjoy them while they lasted, until the days where he was sweating too much and wanted to rip off his own skin with fans blowing all around him.

_A flash of a drenched white T-shirt draped over a tiny body. A mix of liquids: sweat and water from their bottles. Sitting on the fire escape, attempting to catch a breeze, boney thin fingers trying to pass the time by sketching the dumpster two stories down…_

His notes...where were they? Had to write it down...scrambling as he hunted his pockets for his tiny journal and pen.

Barely getting the words down before another flash… _On the roof this time. A gasp. Ice cubes in a bowl beside him, one in his hand traveling down a spine he could trace every vertebrae of. Relief, awe, heat of a different kind…_

Snapping the book closed he broke himself out of his own reverie. That was a memory he didn’t need to finish writing.

Rubbing his forehead he put his notebook and pen back in his pocket. That's right, he was looking over his home. Home; what a strange word to him. He still needed to get a table, but he did have groceries in the fridge. Cooking supplies like pots and pans would be useful. A laptop would be out of the question, too fragile to take with him if he had to run. Maybe instead he could invest in a better phone instead of a burner?

Hair fell into his face as he moved around. Right, toiletries. Up until now he had been using the gym to shower and hand soap to wash his hair. Maybe now he could try some actual shampoo and conditioner? He wondered what that would be like, to have soft hair, not stringy and greasy. Thankfully the gym membership had been a trial so he could cancel it without much trouble.

As he turned to leave, he also wondered if he could be so bold as to haul a couch up the many flights of stairs?

* * *

It was while he was helping the old Chinese guy around the apartment complex that Barnes got the idea to get a job at a mechanic shop. For him it would be easy and they tended to hire anyone as long as they could do the work, and damn it, if anything his metal arm could be something useful besides a tool for murder.

Not minding he asked to leave earlier to job-hunt, the old man shooed him away. So, grabbing his wallet, Barnes headed out to look for a mechanic shop that would take him in.

It took most of the day. As well as the day after that. Some places he walked away from without even trying. Others he stopped halfway through and left. He didn’t feel like those places were right. It wasn’t until the third day he decided to go out on a limb and try Brooklyn, or at least near it. The area might have changed considerably, but the feeling was familiar. Old, but welcoming. His feet carried him along through the streets, looking around and comparing his memory to what he saw.

Before long, he was crossing the threshold into a mechanic shop with a mechanical looking spider as its Logo, and a part of him remembered the fight in the streets of D.C, battling against Natalia, seeing her smirk over her shoulder as she ran away from him. They had played that game plenty of times, even if he was pissed about his goggles. Grease and oil filled his nose, along with other chemicals you’d find in a mechanic shop, of course.

“Hey there, sir, you need help with somethin’?” A man with short, dirty-blond hair but one long bang framing his face looked at him with curious hazel eyes, wiping his hands with a towel.

“Yes, I’m here looking to see if you have any job positions available,” Barnes nodded respectfully, “Could I have an application?”

“Well damn, you’re lucky you didn’t waltz into a place where applications are online. I’m Kyle. Lemme get Jacob to print you one. ID?”

Fishing out his wallet, Barnes handed it to him, “Aren’t IDs given once the application’s approved?”

“Yup. Hiring you immediately.” Kyle smirked wide at his shocked eyes, “We had a fucker no-call no-show last week and we’ve been working ourselves to the bone. A new hand on deck would be great. Application’s just for basic information and all that jazz.” He took the ID and disappeared into an office off to the side.

This wasn’t what Barnes was expecting, but he couldn’t help the relief that washed over him. It was good to have a job under his belt.

* * *

A rainy spring day brought James to the forefront of his attitude personas. Kyle was too noisy and nosy for his own good. The deadly stare and dangerous drop of his voice had put a quick end to Kyle calling him ‘Jim’, especially since he used his  _flesh_ hand to make a point by bending the wrench he had been holding in half.

One thing was for sure, he was a lot more brazen as James. More honest with his feelings, even if he didn't talk as much. When he did talk, it was something worth saying. Kyle was quick to respect him during the second week of his life free from those who had held him captive.

It rained a lot that week, too.

Chinatown was an odd distance to travel to and from for work. Some days he took the bus. Other days he walked. Today was a day he was doing both. Walking from the bus station, James preferred to walk the alleyways. Not only did it protect him from the wind and a portion of the rain, but he felt safer. Anyone he crossed in the back streets he could handle and he was confident of that fact.

Did that pertain to any _thing_ as well?

That question came into play as he heard  _incessant_ mewling. At first more than one mew-mew-mew, which came down to the sound of one as his feet carried him closer without him consciously deciding to do so. There, by the dumpster...a generous sized cardboard box.

Dread in his chest, James knelt down and popped open the lid.

Sure enough, three kittens were in there, but only one pair of mismatched eyes stared back.

~~Drowning. A hole had been clawed out in the side and the cardboard was weak enough to rip the rest of the way. They only had to be three weeks old. With sad eyes, he gathered the bodies of the other two, one black the other orange. He  couldn’t...he couldn’t abandon them here like this.~~

Reaching down, he picked up the black calico. Her face was half black with a green eye, the other half orange with a golden eye. She was going to be a medium to long haired cat. Huddling them under his jacket, all kittens secured, James hurried out to the main road and waved down a taxi. “Nearest vet.” He mumbled, the alive one mewling weakly.

“Sure thing, bud, just hang tight. I'll even let this one be free. Doing a good deed. Animal abuse...sickening.”

“I could've paid, but thank you. I was just going home when...” it disheartened him,  ~~two bodies growing colder against his chest.~~  The third one was shivering, curling deeper.

“I believe ya...we'll get there, don't worry.”

Ten minutes through soaked roads and the traffic of people trying to get home were too long. The driver was a good sport, even waving when James got out. Hurrying inside, he went up to the desk and worked up his best ‘pained’ expression, “Please, help me. I found some stray kittens...only one of them is alive...I got to them too late but I couldn't  _leave_ them there…”

“Shh, calm down, sir, can you show me?” The woman came around and he shuffled his arm and jacket, getting a cry of protest from the poor calico.  ~~T he woman was stone faced as she took the lifeless bodies if the other two~~ , and he had to commend her. A city full of thousands of people; she had to have seen a lot. “If you can get the other one free of your shirt, I'll take a look at her, sir.”

He nodded and didn't mind the burn of her tiny little claws as he pried her off of him. She deserved all the crying and clawing. “It's okay, baby, sush...just let the nice doctor lady take care of you.” He cooed, rubbing her tiny ears while she put gouges in his flesh hand, refusing to let go. It took a moment, but he was able to hand her to the veterinarian.

“I'll get a nurse to give you bandages for your hand. You're a trooper.” She smiled faintly and headed off towards the back. A nurse did come out, cleaned the blood off and showed surprise when the gashes were little nicks instead. “Just got some blood vessels I guess.”

Once she left him alone, he contemplated. The calico was so scared, left alone to drown and die. How...how could he walk away without her? He had the money. Telling the banks he had done commission work he had dropped a few extra thousand dollars in each one. Taking care of a small animal might help him settle into a better routine other than [attempting to] sleep, writing in his notebook, eating, work, rinse and repeat. Give him a new purpose and a reason to wake up other than to live in spite of everyone.

That got exhausting, after all.

“Tell me what I need to do to make her mine.” He demanded of the doctor when she walked back out, “Give me the paperwork, I'll sign whatever I need to. I think they even have a name.”

Her surprise melted into a compassionate smile, “Sure thing, sir. She's stable, if a little sniffly. I'll prescribe medicine you can feed her as well as give you suggestions for good baby milk, which thankfully you'll only need to give her for one week before she should be developed enough to be given soft canned food.” Tapping away at the computer, she added, “Once I have your information, I'll give you a call, email, or send you mail in the post when it's time to have her get her shots. Don't want your new baby to have feline leukemia after all.”

“That would be much appreciated, thank you very much.” James let his shoulders drop in relief, “She in a cage right now?”

“Yes, but we can let you take her home in a carrier. You’re not the only one who finds kinship with the animals they find. It happens more than you think.”

“I'll make sure to keep her warm and dry.” James was happier than he expected to be, “I'm going to name her Harlequin.” A two-faced name for an equally two-faced soul.

This was turning out to be a good day.

* * *

“So, are you going to thank me?” A girl with long red hair with a crop top and torn jeans was resting against his couch, playing with a piece of string and making Harley jump around trying to catch it. Her eyes were alight with mischief and happiness, and wasn’t at all perturbed that Bucky wasn’t too thrilled that she broke into his apartment. His doors and windows were locked, so it was a mystery all but to her on how she even managed to get the fuck in.

“What exactly should I be thanking you for?” Barnes asked carefully, placing his keys on the hook by the door, watching her with narrowed eyes. Just because she looked harmless playing with his kitten, didn't mean she was.

“For the apartment and the mattress.” The woman gave him an appraising look. “Good. You haven’t lost that self preservation. Keep that up, and you’ll be just fine. Mystic by the way, but  _you_ can call me Cassie. Or Cass. Or Cassandra. Sandra. Whatever.”

Recognition crossed his face, “Mystic. The old guy mentioned you come around. I’ll warm up to a nickname. Do you want coffee? I can make coffee now and it gives me life. Yes, thank you for your help.”

“Coffee sounds amazing.” Cassandra beamed at him as he walked into the kitchen. “Still getting used to being a person again, huh? That takes a bit of time, but I’m glad you’re doing well. You even have a kitten. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I found her in the rain. Her siblings were already...gone. So I took her to the vet and got her checked up and they were kind enough to give me a cat carrier they had on hand. I have an appointment for a checkup in a while, but she should be good. I was going to buy her some toys on my first payday, though technically I could do it now. Been spending that money on food and necessities for us both.” He clanged and banged around for a coffee filter and to rinse and fill the pot, then he ground some fresh beans, the sound filling the apartment for 20 seconds and spooking the kitten, “I named her Harley, because of her face and eyes.”

Cassandra’s expression softened as she continued to play. “How about you don’t worry about that for a while. Stick to the necessaries for a bit and get yourself better furniture and appliances, as well as the vet visits. I don’t mind spending my money on a kitten that needs toys. You’ll feel more at ease with an emergency fund going somewhere. Sure, you have a lot of money, but I know how frugal you’re going to get with it. Or are. Or is.” She grinned over at him. “Sounds like fun right? Having things to call _yours_?”

“I’ve never lasted this long, outside of their grip. My mind’s never been mine this much. When I tangled with Rogers...it was a flood of thoughts and memories. I’m still getting dreams and nightmares alike. Also trickles during the day. I’ve taken to carrying around a pocket journal. I also detail my day, in case I wake up...as not who I am right now. Multiple personalities, I researched. It is a bit confusing, but I’ve got the basic idea. At least I’m not dissociating, which is something I expected instead. The personalities are more...casual versus self preservation.” He paused after putting the grounds in the filter and turning the pot on. “Why am I telling you all this? I don’t even know you.”

“Because I’m comfortable to be around, and if it’s not me you’re telling it would be someone else.” Cassandra shrugged easily as she continued to play with the cat. “My sister, Maddie, she can flip through dimensions like you wouldn’t believe. So, yeah. If not me, then you’d tell someone else. Someone that knows only one part of you.” Her eyes gazed back towards him. “I’m no Empath, sweetheart and you’re not telling me anything that I wouldn’t be surprised about. Now if I was an Empath? I would already have you talking about your time in Hydra and I’d know how it’d feel. I’m so glad I’m not one.”

“Now that’d be shit for us both.” Barnes agreed, “I wasn’t sure what level of Mystic you were, but I guess you know damn near everything don’t you?”

“No, that’s my sister.” Cassandra said with a laugh as Harley jumped on her breasts since the string went that direction. She pulled the cat off and down back on the ground, dangling the string with a teasing motion. “I’m just a Seer. Every future possibility. Nothing set in stone. Though there’s been times where I’ve been very disappointed and people always take the path I suggest. I know better with you.  _You_ I know will use my advice  _correctly._ ”

“Well that’s nice to know, that I break the mold and spice up your life.” He reached into a different cupboard for two mugs and got the sugar ready, “I was surprised at my sweet tooth. How do you like your coffee?”

“Extra cream, no sugar.” Cassandra replied. “And yes, continue to break the mold. I get so bored of idiots.”

Going for his fridge, he got out his bottle of creamer. Playing it safe, he grabbed the french vanilla instead of the hazelnut and poured her her cup first, “Does your sister come around here for incense and crystals too or is it just you? Got any advice for me or am I good for a while?”

“For now? For now you’re good. You already know everything.” Cassandra smiled warmly as she listened to him pour a second mug. “My sister sometimes does, but she likes getting things from me. A gift from a witch to a witch is more powerful than a gift to oneself. Though that might just be me being eccentric. Like usual. You may not meet her at all. No...no you won’t actually. You have no need for her. You have me, and that’s enough. Well, for now anyway. Just be careful around Kyle and Jacob? Metal Spiders are spiders after all, and they have a tendency to climb on things they don’t have a grip on. I’ll let your better judgement guide you on that one.”

“I’ll figure it out as I go, as I have been so far. I am still surprised I was hired immediately, but something tells me you had something to do with that. You’ve been guiding me a lot.” He brought her her mug after taste-testing it for sweet creaminess and then sat down on the mattress with his own mug, “I’ll get a couch in here so you have somewhere to sit next time you’re over. Good thing I’m a super soldier, I guess.”

“Good thing,” Cassandra echoed. “Your good looks would suffer if you weren’t.” She sipped at the coffee and sighed in bliss as the cream touched her tongue. “Kyle and Jacob are friends of mine. They’re one of the few gangs that I trust wholeheartedly. Don’t worry, you won’t get mixed up into anything severe. They do illegal speed racing. I keep them away from the police’s radar. My brother, Trevor and sister in law Miranda help out with that a lot since they’re in the force themselves. Now, if I had more eyes on the ground I’d be set, but I make due with who I got.”

That was a thought. Hmm. He wanted to help, but he had to help himself first. A smile spread over his face, soft and small, as Harley waddled her tiny body over to him and crawled up onto his leg, her nails pinching his jeans and scratching his skin, but he didn’t mind. She curled herself into a ball on his thigh and he rubbed behind her tiny ear, her purr loud and happy. “Thank you for offering to get her some toys. Do you think putting you in my phone’s a good idea? I can just label you as Mystic.”

Her eyes and expression softened into something akin to sisterly. She telegraphed her movements so he knew what she was doing and rested her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You can put me under whatever name you decide to give me.” She said, looking at him sincerely. “Since I know you’ll use my advice well. Do you trust me with yours? I will call you, not just when I have something to tell you. Friendships are something you’re not used to, so I’m giving you mine freely.”

“I’d...like that. Sure.” Reaching into his jacket since he hadn’t taken it off, he took out his phone and handed it to her, “Thank you.” For everything, left unsaid but he knew she knew what he meant.


End file.
